One Week
by parma-violets
Summary: He knew the girl behind the counter … but she didn’t know him. Short fic set in a world where The Void has taken Sakura’s love for Syaoran.
1. Monday

**One Week  
**

A/N: My first multi-chaptered fic! This story is set about … ten years or so after the second movie. Only in this version, Syaoran didn't get there in time and The Void card took its price from Sakura. Ergo, she doesn't remember Syaoran or what she feels for him. You may find echoes of _Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles_ in here. It wasn't intentional, but the resemblance is inevitable, really.

Disclaimer: I suppose I should get used to saying this, shouldn't I? I don't own it. Never have, never will. Okay?

Summary: He knew the girl behind the counter … but she didn't know him. Short fic set in a world where The Void has taken Sakura's love for Syaoran.

**Monday  
**

He hated being in Tokyo.

He supposed he was being a little unfair to the city by making that statement – after all, the weather was warm, summer had caused the flowers to come out in full bloom, and the people here were the friendliest he'd ever met. But none of that changed the fact that he hated being in Tokyo.

He travelled a lot for his job, all over the world, even. But the Elders he worked so hard to please knew better than to send him to Tokyo unless it was a Clan emergency.

Apparently, this was an emergency.

A CEO had made several contractual violations that had pulled him away from his Hong Kong mansion and into a penthouse suite in one of the finest hotels in Tokyo city centre. It was because of this CEO that he found himself in his most hated city, wandering down a street looking for somewhere that served a decent cup of coffee.

He was fairly certain that the CEO in question no longer had a job.

Finally a place caught his eye. He was picky when it came to coffee – Starbucks was never good enough for him. Unfortunately, you could never tell from the exterior of a shop just how good their coffee was.

He took a chance on a moderately sized place on the corner of the street he'd been walking down. The interior was warm and cosy, made up of dark mahogany wood tables and mismatched, squishy chairs and sofas. He had no idea why he'd chosen this place. Usually he liked things clean, cold and shining.

He joined the queue, impatiently checking his watch even though he had nowhere to be for an hour. He ordered his plain black coffee to go with the minimal pleasantries, not even looking at the boy behind the till as he scrawled down the order, stuck it to a polystyrene cup and handed it to the girl working the array of coffee machines.

The girl, however, caught his attention.

She was small, with auburn hair clipped at the back of her head to keep it out of her eyes. She spoke to a colleague, then to a customer (making them both laugh), and then she was just smiling, smiling at nothing as she went about preparing his drink.

He knew that girl … but she didn't know him.

He moved to the end of the counter to wait for his beverage, watching the girl's every move. She handled the machines with well-practised ease, clattering about and humming happily to herself. Finally she placed the cap on his coffee and turned to him, bright green eyes sparkling cheerfully.

"Here you go!"

She didn't recognise him. Why had he been stupid enough to hope that she would?

He took the cup slowly, wanting to say something, anything. But every word that came to his lips would be out of place, wrong in her eyes. He couldn't think of anything to say to a girl who clearly didn't know him, but still made his throat tighten and his breathing quicken and his heart ache.

He smiled at his reason for hating Tokyo. She smiled back at him. 


	2. Tuesday

**One Week**

A/N: First of all, THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed. It means a lot to know that people are reading this, and ideas and constructive criticism are always appreciated. I'm new to this, so any advice is welcomed! Someone requested that there be "no matchmaking or recording" -laughs- Don't worry. Though I have nothing against these things myself, they're far too light-hearted for this fic.

I'm slightly concerned that this story might not go the way people want it to. This was originally a very long one-shot which I've broken down into small chapters. They're just drabbles really, which are supposed to be quite sad. There's a plot, but not a complex one, and it's certainly a slow moving one. I hope this is still of interest to some of you!

HOWEVER. If enough people are interested in seeing this fleshed out into a proper long fanfiction (with decent sized chapters and a proper plot), I'd be more than happy to give it a go. The thing is, I hate starting stories and leaving them unfinished, so I'd have to have a pretty sound plot before I started writing. I'm open to ideas and suggestions. Let me know if you would be interested, and if enough of you are I'll post some details in a later chapter. Okay, minna-san?

**Tuesday**

He didn't know what compelled him to go back there.

Yesterday, stumbling across her had been an accident. It had been ten years since he last saw her, and he'd certainly had no intention of doing so again. Seeing the polite, but unknowing look in her eyes had hurt him more than he thought it would.

And yet he still found his feet taking him down that same street, to the coffee shop on the corner.

He pushed the door open, subconsciously holding his breath and preparing for the flash of auburn and the brighter-than-the-sun smile.

She wasn't there. He cursed himself for feeling disappointed.

This time, he decided to have his coffee in, asking the boy at the till to bring it over when it was ready. He told himself it was because he had an hour to waste before his meeting. He refused to acknowledge that he was hoping she'd appear.

He chose a table near the window, but facing the counter, and pulled out a newspaper in the hopes of distracting himself from wishing for her to walk out of the door marked 'STAFF ONLY'.

The minutes ticked by and she didn't emerge (neither did his coffee, actually – what was with the service today?), and he was angrier with himself than ever. He poured over the newspaper, determined to concentrate on the stories there. What was he thinking, dredging up these feelings again? If he wasn't careful, he was going to become obsessed. And that wasn't fair on her or him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting!"

Her voice caused his head to snap up, and he stared at her in wide-eyed disbelief. Even though he now knew she worked here, had been hoping to see her, he never actually thought he would. But there she was, her hair pinned up in a bun and a sunny smile on her face as she placed a cup of coffee in front of him.

He continued to stare at her.

"I'm really sorry," she apologised again, apparently mistaking his silence for anger. "One of our girls broke a plate and managed to cut herself and I was helping her bandage it up … of course that's no excuse for poor service –"

"It's all right."

She looked rather startled, and he supposed he'd been a little abrupt. But he was having trouble saying anything at all to her, let alone using the appropriate tone and timing.

Then she broke out into a smile again, and all was right with the world.

"Thank you! Did you want anything else?"

He continued staring at her, unable to follow the conversation when his eyes were too busy taking in her face, her hands, the way she moved … things that were different (like her height), things that were the same (like her smile, which he knew would never change).

This time his silence concerned her, and she frowned slightly. "Are you okay?"

The loss of her smile jerked him abruptly into reality, and he realised he'd been staring. "Um … yes, thank you. I mean, I'm sorry."

That was the first time he'd apologised for anything in ten years.

She laughed a little, apparently finding him amusing (or cute, as the slight blush across her cheeks would indicate). "You keep spacing out. Have you had breakfast?"

The random question threw him for a loop, and he stuttered copiously before being able to answer, "No."

"Let me bring you something to eat," she insisted, waving away his spluttered protests. "I insist. Think of it as an apology for making you wait for your coffee. Did you want a muffin or a pastry?"

"Um … a pastry?" he replied, feeling confused.

"Got it. Crumpet, croissant, pain au chocolat?"

He looked at her blankly. He was still trying to process the fact that she was there, speaking to him. It was too much for him to keep up intelligent conversation at the same time.

Anyone else would have considered his silence rude, or ungrateful. But not her. She simply smiled, holding up a finger and announcing, "I think you're a croissant person. I'll get you a croissant."

He didn't fight her. He was too busy wondering how she knew that he liked croissants. Was there any chance that she was able to remember useless, random facts like that one, and just not the feelings that really mattered?

She had already started to move away to retrieve the pastry, but she stopped after a few steps and turned back to him. "I've seen you before," she said, scrutinising his face in a playful way. His chest tightened, and just for a moment he dared to hope, dared to think that maybe, just maybe …

"You were here yesterday, right?"

The hope was gone as soon as it came, and loneliness once again settled into its place. "Yes. That's right."

She beamed at him. "I remember."

_No, you don't, _he thought.

_And you never will._

**A/N:** Just a note for anyone who is confused. Someone asked why Sakura doesn't remember Syaoran – I explained it in the first chapter, but I don't mind saying it again because it's kind of important to the plot (please skip this if you already understand!). At the end of the second movie (for those who haven't seen it), Sakura has to sacrifice her love for Syaoran in order to seal Clow's final card, The Void. In the film, Syaoran turns up at the last minute and tries to make the sacrifice for her, but because Sakura has the Love card she created at the end of the Sakura Card season, it fuses with The Void and no prices have to be paid. And they all live happily ever after. In MY version (because I am cruel), Syaoran didn't turn up in time, The Void didn't fuse with The Love, and Sakura's love for Syaoran was taken as payment. Without any feelings for him or any relationship to speak of, she forgot him almost as soon as he went to Hong Kong – so now that he's turned up ten years later, she has no idea who he is.

Phew! Hope this clears everything up for people. I promise I won't inundate you with author's notes next chapter; I know they can get annoying.

One final thing. Good listening for this story? James Blunt's _You're Beautiful_ (whether you like it or not, it fits!).


	3. Wednesday

**One Week**

**A/N:** Once again, thank you to the reviewers! I'm glad you still like this even though it is a bit short and drabble-esque. And I'm glad it's a bit different, too … I like to be unique! I'm really happy people said I was keeping them in character, because that's what I was aiming for. I'm struggling a bit with the ending – I don't know whether to make it happy or sad. I have two scenarios in my head, and I thought I'd decided, but … well, we'll see what happens! Any preferences?

Since this one is SO short, I'll try to get 'Thursday' up in the next day or two. Probably tomorrow. 'Saturday' will be the one that's long (I hope you can stick with me 'til then!), so the next two should be up really quickly.

**Wednesday**

She was behind the till today, and he guessed from the smile on her face when she saw him that she'd been expecting him to appear.

"Good morning!" she greeted him brightly, gracing him once again with that beautiful smile. He'd spent ten years without it; now the thought of not seeing it every day tore him apart.

"Good morning," he replied dutifully, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "Um, I'll have –"

"A plain black coffee and a croissant?" she asked almost hopefully, and for some reason he couldn't help but smile at her.

"That would be great," he agreed.

She beamed, happily punching numbers into her till. "You have a nice smile," she announced randomly.

"Excuse me?"

"You've always looked rather sad before. I was just thinking yesterday that you'd look so much nicer if you smiled," she commented, as though it were appropriate for them to be having this conversation. Ten years ago, it would have been. But not now.

"I, um …" He was blushing. He could feel it, and he hated it, but something told him he was going to have to get used to it.

"To have in or to go?" she asked.

"Uh … in. Have in. Please," he managed to get out, realising the girl had no idea of the effect she had on him. Then again, she never did before.

She was just handing over his change when an older gentleman appeared at her shoulder. "We've just had a delivery – would you mind sorting it out in the stock room for me?" he asked her.

He found himself hating the man. She'd already been taken from him once, and now this man was denying him a few more minutes with her?

"Not a problem," she beamed at her boss. She tugged her hair out of the half-ponytail it had been in and scraped it all off her face before turning to one of her colleagues. "Hana-chan, can you make sure this gentleman gets his coffee?"

He couldn't deny he wasn't happy, but at least he found the sense to smile at her before he turned away to find a seat.

"You know, I don't know your name."

He turned back to her, a questioning look on his face.

She smiled back shyly. "If we're going to be seeing each other every morning, I feel like I should at least know your name."

_For the love of God, give her your family name …_

"Syaoran. My name's Syaoran."

She didn't question the inappropriateness of his actions. She just smiled, waving over her shoulder. "Bye, Syaoran-kun."

**Extra A/N:** I know that most people reading fics here know the basics of Japanese customs and culture, but for those who don't, let me explain the last part. In Japan, people generally address each other by their last names. You usually only call someone by their first name if they are family or a good friend – which was why in this case it was inappropriate for Syaoran to give his first name to Sakura. Especially for someone like him, who didn't call Sakura by name for TWO AND A HALF SEASONS. Oy vey …

**P.S.** Thanks to an amazing plot suggested by dreamschemer, I've decided there WILL be a proper long fanfiction version of this. Details will be posted later when I've worked out the kinks!


	4. Thursday

**One Week**

**A/N:** See how much I love you all? I'm uploading this even though I'm going to be incredibly late for work … sorry I didn't get it done yesterday! I'm really flattered that so many people have taken the time to review this! Thank you so much to all of you!

Just some general information … if anyone's been looking at the reviews to check out the plot dreamschemer suggested for me, you should know that she PM'd me with something completely different and more complex. So no clues yet, I'm afraid!

**Thursday**

He debated not going to get coffee today, knowing that the longer he kept this up, the harder it would be for him to go back to a life without her. But once again, his feet took on a life of their own and led him into the coffee shop.

She was working the machines again, and she beamed when she saw him come in.

He joined the queue, feeling her eyes on him. When he got close enough, she waved at him happily and called, "Morning, Syaoran-kun!"

He blushed slightly despite himself. "Morning."

The boy at the till took his order, glaring at him the whole time. The one putting out the muffins was also glaring, and Syaoran had the feeling that she was popular here.

Suddenly, the idea that she might have a boyfriend struck him, and he felt incredibly depressed as he walked over to his usual table. What were the odds of a girl like her not having someone? It could even be one of the boys that worked here …

He had to stop this. Ten years was a long time. In ten years, she would have created a life he knew nothing about. He knew so little of her now. He didn't know how she came to work here, if she was full or part time, if she'd been to university, if she still lived at home … she was a stranger to him …

"You're sad again, huh?"

Syaoran looked up, no longer shocked to hear her voice. "What makes you say that?"

She sighed, placing his coffee and his croissant down on the table. "You're pulling a face."

He frowned self-consciously. "I am?"

"You are."

There was silence between them for a while, but she didn't leave. Finally she tilted her head and asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

He laughed despite himself. He was a stranger to her, and yet she was still willing to give it her all and try to help him. "No. But thank you."

"Is it to do with work?"

"I – no," he answered.

"You're family?"

"No." He was starting to smile now.

"A girl?"

The smile fell off his face.

Suddenly she gasped, clapping her hands to her mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry! I'm being so nosy, aren't I? I get like this sometimes; I ask too many questions …"

He shook his head. "You can never ask too many questions."

Her hands fell away from her mouth and she smiled, and he was comforted in knowing that if nothing else came of this week, he had at least made her smile.

"Okay then, here's one," she said, leaning forward curiously. "Where do you work?"

"Uh …" There was no harm in telling her that, right? "I'm in charge of my family's businesses – I basically make sure they're running smoothly, make and break deals, that sort of thing."

"Wow!" Her eyes were wide. "That sounds amazing." She paused, frowning slightly as she fiddled with her braided hair. "Then how come you have time to sit here at ten o'clock in the morning?"

He laughed. "I'm from Hong Kong – I'm actually only in Tokyo on business, so I have a lot of time to kill between meetings."

"Ah." She sat down across from him. "So when do you go home?"

"On Sunday."

She nodded. "Is that why you've been sad? Because you're missing your home?"

"I –" He sighed. That was one way of putting it. "Not exactly."

"Still," she shrugged, propping her chin up on her hands. "When I miss home, I just think of all my family and friends and how happy I'll be to see them again when I get back."

He smiled, not knowing how to tell her that he didn't have friends any more.

Suddenly someone at the till called for her, a new boy who was fumbling with buttons and change, and she waved at him reassuringly.

"I should go," she sighed, getting to her feet. "But you know, things are never as bad as they seem. Don't worry – everything will be all right. I'm sure of it. See you tomorrow?"

He nodded, and she beamed happily before rushing to the boy who had now managed to drop several coins all over the floor.

_Everything will be all right_. The invincible spell.

Thank goodness she never found out that it wasn't invincible.


	5. Friday

**One Week**

**A/N:** As always, much love to the reviewers. I can't believe these little drabbles have garnered over _fifty_ (as I write this) reviews from you guys. I figured it would be best to get this up before Monday, when the crazy chaos of another week begins (last week before Christmas vacation though! Whoo!). It's another short one, I'm afraid. I promise the next chapter is longer. It's not _long_, but it's longer. And then we get the conclusion ;p

**Friday**

It was raining today.

He managed to convince himself that it was only sensible to wait out the sudden shower in the coffee shop. He could take some time to warm up and dry off and, hopefully, the rain would have stopped by the time he had to leave.

He pushed the door open and crossed the threshold, suddenly aware of how very wet he was and how he was dripping all over the floor.

"Oh!"

He looked up to see her gazing at him in dismay, and he felt horrible for making her worry.

All of a sudden she was by him, pulling him across to his table and sitting him down. "Look at you, you're soaked!" she cried anxiously. "What happened, did you forget your umbrella?"

"I didn't think to bring one," he sighed. It was the truth; he was used to being driven around. "Besides, I don't mind the rain."

She shook her head. "You won't be saying that if you catch a cold."

"The rain is soothing," he insisted.

She tsked at him, amusement now vying with worry in her eyes. "Let me get you a towel."

"What?" he asked in confusion. He was no expert, but he was fairly sure that fetching towels for customers too stupid to bring umbrellas out with them was not in the job description of most waitresses.

"I said I'll go and get you a towel," she repeated patiently. "You're dripping all over your nice suit – oh! And do you want your coffee?"

She didn't wait for him to answer; she simply skipped off out of view. Syaoran shivered slightly, not knowing what to think of this. If she was anyone else, he'd say that she liked him, that maybe she still had some sort of feelings for him, even if they were subconscious. But she was like this with everyone – always going out of her way to help others. Besides, the shop was virtually empty seeing as most people didn't like venturing out in the rain. Maybe she was just bored.

By the time she had reappeared and handed him the towel, she was giggling slightly.

"What?" he asked, peering up at her through cream towelling and soggy bangs.

"You look funny," she laughed, as though this was explanation enough.

He supposed it was. He laughed too, his first real laugh in ten years. This only made her smile more, and by the time she'd gotten him his coffee, she'd decided to offer him her umbrella.

"I couldn't –" he started to protest.

"Why not?" she asked. "I get the bus home and it stops right outside. Besides, I'm sure it will have stopped raining by the time my shift ends."

He looked at her. Her cheeks were a soft pink, either from embarrassment or from the harsh weather that had lowered the temperature so drastically. Her eyes glittered at him, and her auburn hair framed her face in soft ringlets; the rain had obviously made her fine hair curl slightly.

He took the umbrella. He also promised himself he wouldn't be going back to the coffee shop the next day.

He was getting far too close.


	6. Saturday

**One Week**

**A/N:** See how quick I can be when I want to? My lecture today got cancelled, so here's an extra-fast update. A couple of people mentioned the genre in the reviews … the story is under 'angst' because I didn't know what else to put it as! It's not really romance, and I didn't want to leave it as 'general' because it's not that either. However, I think originally I intended the plot to be a lot more angsty than it is now … Sakura and Syaoran just kind of got away from me! I'm happy to change it if people think I should – just let me know what to change it to! Also, a couple of people have asked if Sakura still has the cards … hopefully you'll catch the teeny reference here that answers that question.

And for those of you who are interested, I've put a bit of information at the end of the chapter about the longer fanfiction I've been talking about.

**Saturday**

He didn't have any meetings today, so it became even harder not to stroll down to the coffee shop and talk to her. But then he remembered that he still had her umbrella. He tried to convince himself that he didn't _need_ to return it – it was only an umbrella, after all. It wasn't like it was expensive or precious or of great sentimental value. But it was hers, and she'd lent it to him so selflessly … He considered writing her a cheque and posting it to the shop, ensuring she'd have enough money to buy a new umbrella and probably a few other things besides.

He then realised he was being stupid.

Essentially it came down to this: don't go back, put the girl out of his head, and move on with his life like he'd been trying to do for the last ten years. Or go back, let her smile at him and continue to cling on to a thread of non-existent hope.

His head said no. His heart said yes. And for the first time in ten years, his heart won.

She might not even be there, he reasoned with himself as he walked down the now familiar street. It was later in the day now, much later. She might only work in the mornings, or on weekdays …

She was there, standing at a table full of teenagers and handing them their coffees from a tray.

Syaoran scowled, wondering if he should take a walk and come back when she was free to talk to him. Then he reminded himself that he was only there to return the umbrella. And it was better this way. He could leave it with one of the staff behind the till, take his coffee to go, and leave. And never see her again.

He ordered his coffee to have in.

He sat at the same table, part of him willing her to look over and see him, part of him hoping that she wouldn't notice he was there.

She was talking merrily to the teenagers now, beaming at them all and making them smile right back at her. The girls all looked happy. The boys were entranced by her. She'd always had that gift – people could feel warmth and sun and light radiating from her.

He suddenly felt inexplicably cold.

Taking care to keep his head down, he hurriedly sipped at his coffee. The sooner he got out of there, the better. He should have learned by now: people like her didn't happen to people like him.

"Hey, you."

He sighed heavily, unable to look her in the eye.

"You're later than usual, huh?" she questioned, apparently not put off by his lack of eye contact. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten me!"

The remark was so uncannily ironic that it stunned him into looking up.

"That's better!" she giggled. "So, why so late?"

"No reason," he replied. There was no reason, only that he'd been trying to fight this need to see her. He couldn't tell her that.

"Well, you're here now, and that's the important thing!" she announced sunnily, before glancing down at his table with a pout. "No croissant."

"Ah – would you mind -?"

She beamed. "Coming right up!"

He shook his head. The silliest things made her happy.

Now that he'd started looking at her, he found he couldn't stop. There was something undeniably cute about her today – and he didn't use that word, so that was saying a lot. Her hair was tied in low bunches, and she had a bright pink t-shirt on underneath the dark green apron. In fact, if he squinted enough, he fancied he could see the fine gold chain of the Key glinting around her neck.

"You've got that look again," she sighed, as she placed the croissant in front of him.

"Oh – ah – sorry," he stammered, trying to rearrange his face into a more pleasing expression.

"Silly," she said, with no real conviction behind the word. "There's no need to apologise for feeling sad."

He wanted to tell her that he wasn't sad, he was just so, heart-achingly lonely.

"How have your meetings been?" she asked, and the simple, every-day topic made the loneliness abate just the tiniest bit.

"Okay. A little boring."

She tilted her head curiously. "Do you not like your job? Is that why you're sad?"

"I –" He paused for a second. Did he like his job? He didn't even know. "It's not that, I – to me, a job isn't something that makes people happy."

She sat at his table again, a thoughtful look on her face. "Maybe you're right."

"Does your job make you happy?" he asked before he could stop himself. Somehow, knowing that she was happy with her life would make their separation seem bearable. It wouldn't matter if they were apart, as long as she was happy.

"I like it," she replied. "But you're right, it's not the job. It's the people that I work with, the customers I talk to – they're what make me happy."

He was struck by the curious desire to know more about her. "You work here full time then?"

"Oh no – well, at the moment I do," she explained, blushing slightly at his interest in her. "I just graduated from university – next year I'm going to start training to be a teacher, so I'm working here in the summer to make some money."

"I think teaching will make you happy," he told her.

She smiled, and he knew for sure that her chosen career path was perfect for her.

"I hope so."

There was a pause – not an awkward one, just comfortable silence – until she turned the topic of conversation back to him. "So, if your job doesn't make you happy … what does?"

He had no answer to that question, and he was horribly conscious of disappointing her.

"Your family?" she suggested tentatively.

He grimaced slightly at the thought of his fastidious mother and four bossy, domineering older sisters. But her hopeful smile had him thinking of his family's redeemable features – of which there were many that he rarely acknowledged – and he nodded his head. "Yes. They make me happy."

"And you must have good friends, too?"

Not any more. In Hong Kong all they were after was his money and his connections.

"And maybe a girlfriend?"

He smiled at her persistency. "No."

"You get a crinkle between your eyes –" She paused to lay a finger on his forehead, "– Right there – whenever I mention a girl." She pulled back to analyse this new development. "Did she do something bad to make you lose your smile?"

"No! Not her, she would never –" He paused, realising he was saying far too much. "It wasn't her fault."

"Well then I'm sure she'd want you to keep smiling for her."

He looked up curiously at this odd announcement, and she rushed to explain.

"Even if she can't be with you now, I'm sure she loved you and would want you to be happy more than anything." She paused, blushing slightly as she became aware of how personal she was becoming. But she forged on anyway. "I bet knowing that you were still smiling would make her happy as well."

He couldn't help himself. He broke out into the biggest, truest smile he was able to form, and she beamed back happily at the sight.

Suddenly she shrank back, biting her lip slightly. "Oh! I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Doing what?"

"Asking too many questions?"

"No, you're not. You're fine." He paused. "But won't you get in trouble for sitting here with me?"

She giggled slightly, covering her mouth with her hand in a cute way. "Silly. I've been on my break for the last twenty minutes!"

"You didn't have to waste your break talking to me."

She shrugged. "You looked like you needed someone to talk to."

**A/N:** A little bit longer this time, ne? I just thought I'd put a little note at the end about my upcoming long fic. For those who don't care (or who just like to be surprised!), feel free to skip this bit!

So … as I've said before, it's going to be a story based on a plot that dreamschemer very kindly took the time to write out and PM to me. At the moment, it's looking to be about 15-20 chapters long. And I'm going to be optimistic and say it'll be a little bit happier than this one! I'm hoping for lots of fluffy SxS moments because, let's face it, what's life without them? It will be set in the same world as "One Week", but it won't be necessary to read "One Week" in order to understand it. And at the moment, I'm planning on calling it "Void". Hopefully I will have the first chapter of it up before Christmas. I also plan (time permitting) on including a very short excerpt of it at the end of the final chapter of this fic. So … yeah. It should give me a chance to fumble around with this idea some more and answer a lot of questions that I know this fic doesn't. Hope that sounds okay!

That's enough of my ramblings. One more chapter to go, guys …


	7. Sunday

**One Week**

**A/N:** So, this is it! Last chapter! I'm conscious of the fact that some of you really won't like it – some of you will, hopefully – but I wrote what I felt I needed to, so please don't get mad if you wanted to see something else happen!

One quick thing: If anonymous reviewers want me to send them a link when I update, that's fine, but you need to leave me an e-mail address before I can do it!

That's it from me … enjoy the end!

**Sunday**

She'd not even spoken to him today.

It wasn't her fault – from what he could gather from the way members of staff kept asking her things, the boss wasn't here and she'd been left in charge. She hadn't had a spare minute since he arrived here an hour ago. He'd spent a whole hour staring into his cup, wishing for just one more smile before he had to leave.

He didn't want to leave.

He felt a surge of desperation within his chest, and he clenched onto the table edge in a vain attempt to repress it. It didn't matter if he wanted to leave or not – he had to.

If what they had had was real love, true love, then she wouldn't have been able to forget him, surely? Or maybe, if he went and spoke to her, told her of the things they'd done and what they had been to each other, it would come back to her. It had to, right? Nothing as trivial as magic could have wiped her memories clean forever – in the end, true love conquered all, didn't it?

He looked down to see that his hand was shaking.

He shook his head, trying to free himself of the childish notions. He wasn't living in a fairytale. This was real life, and in real life things happened that weren't fair and bad things happened to nice people and good didn't always triumph over evil.

And an ancient magic such as that of Clow Reed couldn't be broken. Not even by her.

But when all that was said and done … shouldn't he still fight for her? Wasn't that what you did when you loved someone – you went and did everything in your power to ensure you could be with your most precious person?

… Not if the only thing you could do might very easily destroy her.

If he told her the truth, he'd make her aware of the hole in her subconscious. And he didn't even want to think what that could do to her state of mind. Or even worse, she might not believe him. After all, why should she? He was a stranger to her.

She was happy here. That was what mattered. Her smile, her laugh … they were the only things that mattered to him.

"You're going home today."

He looked up to see her standing by his table, and was surprised that she had even remembered.

"Yes."

"That means I won't see you any more." She had her hands behind her back, a small pout on her face.

"You never know what could happen," he replied, trying to sound cheerful as he placed his now empty coffee cup back on the table.

She smiled at him, but the smile was noticeably less bright than before.

He got to his feet, every muscle in his body protesting the movement. His steps became heavier as he headed for the door, wanting nothing more than to turn back and scoop her up in his arms and never let her go.

_This is why I didn't want to keep coming back …_

His head hurt and his heart hurt and suddenly it felt like he was ten years younger, standing on stone steps and watching in horror as the girl he loved more than anything looked up at him with a blank face and curious eyes. It had hurt so much then. And walking away now hurt almost as much.

"Have a safe trip!" she called after him, and he turned back briefly to wave goodbye.

_At least I got a goodbye this time,_ he thought bitterly.

He had to keep moving – he couldn't stay here. And so he kept walking. He kept walking and went through the doors and then, just like that, it was over. He'd left her behind for good. He'd done it before and survived. And more importantly, she'd survived. It was better this way. It had to be this way –

"Syaoran-kun!"

He stopped when she called his name, and turned to find her right in front of him.

She fiddled with her fingers slightly, looking down at the floor so that her bangs obscured her eyes. Her hair was down today, and the auburn strands caught the sunlight until they looked like a halo. "I – I just wanted to say, that, um … I'm really glad I met you."

His face smiled as his heart broke in two.

"And … um …" As though seized by a fit of courage, she stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her hands clutching on to the sleeve of his jacket for balance.

His face heated up abruptly, and he touched the spot she had kissed in disbelief.

"Promise me you'll keep smiling, okay?" she asked, that beautiful smile on her face as she took his right hand into her left, slipping something into his coat pocket with her free hand.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

Syaoran turned and kept walking, purely because he didn't know what else to do. If he went back in there he'd never leave, and he couldn't let that happen. It wasn't until he got back to his hotel and was preparing to take his suitcases down to the taxi that he remembered the something that she had placed into his pocket.

He reached in and withdrew a small, folded piece of paper, smoothed it out with trembling hands, and read the message she had left for him:

'Kinomoto Sakura: 03-4865-7721'

"_But you know, things are never as bad as they seem. Don't worry – everything will be all right. I'm sure of it."_

… Maybe it would be, this time.

"_Even if I lose this feeling … I'll just fall in love with you again."_

– Li Syaoran, CCS Movie 2, 'The Sealed Card'.

**A/N:** And there! It's done. You have no idea how tempted I was to make the ending a sad one and have him leave her behind forever … but it's Sakura and Syaoran. I couldn't do that to them! For anyone that's interested, this was in fact my original ending. I like it because it's quite bittersweet – she'll never remember him, but at least they have a second chance of sorts. Also, I apologise if the phone number is inaccurate for someone living in Tokyo. I did research it, but Google isn't always the most reliable of creations …

Finally, here is the snippet of my new fic that I promised (which is actually probably longer than some of the whole chapters of this story!). I hope you like it!

**xxx**

Sakura folded her arms on the table and leant the side of her face on her elbow, looking up at him imploringly. "Tell me about her."

For a while, he didn't know what to say. He felt it would be unfair, to describe a persona that technically was that of the girl before him. He felt as if he'd be making up someone who never existed, even though she _did_ – he been there to witness her existence and all its glory. But then she smiled at him, and he knew he could deny her nothing. So he decided to just tell the truth.

"She … she was the most beautiful thing," he blurted out, a small smile forming on his face. "She had this way of looking at you … like you were the most important person in the world. She made you believe that you counted, that you were worth something. And … she had this smile … this beautiful smile that made you think that everything's going to be all right. And she smiled at everyone. Even people like me, who didn't smile back."

"You smile!" Sakura insisted, wide-eyed.

"I do now. I didn't before I met her."

Sakura sighed wistfully, and Syaoran could imagine the kind of fairytale heroine she was creating in her mind's eye. "She sounds amazing."

"She was," he agreed. Then he corrected himself. "She is."

There was a pause between them, Syaoran musing on the girl he knew as Sakura sat, wondering what could have happened between two such perfect people.

Suddenly Syaoran sighed, a bitter smile on his face. "I should've known … people like me don't deserve to have someone like her."

"Don't say that!" Sakura cried almost angrily, bolting upright and shifting so that she was kneeling before him, looking right up into his eyes. "You are the most – the most incredible guy I know! I can't understand why she wouldn't want to be with you …"

"It's not exactly like that," Syaoran protested, defending the girl he knew almost instinctively although he knew there was no point. He'd never, ever be able to explain.

Sakura's face fell, the fairytale dashed before her eyes. "… She _can't _be with you?"

"That's closer."

Another pause fell as Sakura contemplated what he'd said. The idea that this perfect girl and the incredible man before her couldn't be together seemed so sad, _too_ sad. She'd always lived in a world of happy endings, and the idea that not everyone got one tore at her inside. It wasn't _fair_ that someone as selfless as Syaoran had to hurt so much.

And then she remembered the offer he had made her, and life seemed even less fair.

She placed her hands on his knees for balance as she leaned up further, looking into his troubled eyes. She wanted nothing more than to take that pain away. "Do you think it would hurt less if you forgot her?" she asked him softly.

"I have no idea." It was the truth – he didn't know. Was it worse to live with the memories of the one who saved you and know you were the only one who remembered? Or to live believing you'd never been saved at all?

He looked at her, and in that instant he knew that none of that mattered. _She_ was the only thing that mattered.

"But if it would save you … then it would be worth it."

**xxx**

Hope that's got some of you interested, at least! I plan to start work on it soon, and hopefully the first chapter will be up before Christmas. Christmas Day is also my birthday, so things get a bit hectic for me then! But I will do my best!

Thank you so, so much for all your wonderful reviews and comments – they really are appreciated and I feel honoured that so many of you took the time to review this little story! A special thank you to those of you who went to the trouble of reviewing each chapter as it was posted.

See you soon!

parma-violets xxx


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